


Molly's Christmas

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Childhood Memories, Christmas, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:59:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5486228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Among the mayhem her children create, Molly remembers her brothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Molly's Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in 2005 in German and when I got stuck with writing something else, I decided to translate this little ficlet.

The kitchen in the Burrow looked like a battlefield. It did every year when Molly Weasley attempted to bake cookies with her offspring. She was now standing in the middle of it, hands on her hips and scrutinised the naughty imps in front of her.

“I won’t ask who started it,” she announced.

“Fred and George!” Percy piped up anyway. His face was covered in flour and dough. “They always ruin everything.”

“That’s not true!” the twins protested in unison.

“It was fun!” Ginny declared. She was radiating excitement. The girl was only six, but there were worrying indications that she would turn out just like the twins.

Percy crossed his arms. “I’m going to my room to do my homework.”

“Don’t forget to wash yourself first,” George advised him.

“Especially your ears,” Fred added helpfully.

Molly just patted Percy’s shoulder as he walked past her, sighing. It wasn’t easy for Percy in this family, she knew. 

“You need to be nicer to your brother,” she admonished the twins. “It is Christmas.”

“We didn’t do anything!”

“Clean the kitchen you two.”

“Muuuuuuuum.” Molly was by now inurated to whining. She just nodded to emphasis her demand.

“Right now. And I expect it to be spotless when I come back.”

 

Ginny and Ron had run out of the kitchen to evade punishment. Her children were troublesome but clever. Molly walked upstairs to the master bedroom. She let herself fall down onto the bed and took one picture from her nightstand. She cradled it in her hand like a treasure. It showed her parents who were decorating the Christmas tree with a tiny Molly. She took the second picture on the nightstand in her other hand, smiling at it. Her beloved brothers, Fabian and Gideon. The picture showed them rolling out dough in a squeaky clean kitchen. The Prewett siblings had always loved to help their mother in her Christmas preparations. And as far as she could remember, they had never thrown dough at each other. And they had poured flour over their sibling’s head. At least not once they all made it past the age of four.

She felt tears welling up in her eyes. Christmas had been such a special time for all of them, even once they had all moved out from home. They had always celebrated Christmas together, even during Voldemort’s terror. Until death-eaters had killed her brothers. A sob escaped her. They hadn’t celebrated Christmas that year.

 

While she was still trying to repress her tears, the bed dipped next to her and an arm curled around her waist. She instinctively turned towards Arthur and buried her face in the crook of his neck. He stroked her back in consolation as she gave up the struggle and sobbed into his shoulder. He didn't say anything. Arthur was not the type of man to churn out hollow phrases like “They died as heroes,” “It was eight years ago,” “You have your own family now.” Some other people did when she confessed how much she missed her brothers during this time of the year. It never helped.

 

Finally, the tears abated and she lifted her head again.

“Do you remember the first Christmas you spent at my home?” she asked. A smile spread over Arthur’s face.

“Fabian accidentally set the tree on fire. And I was so relieved. I would mess up things with your parents.”

“But you couldn’t do worse than my own brother.” Molly laughed. “We were still in school then.”

“Yes, and Gideon always teased us that we weren’t actually doing our homework when we went to your room.”

“He was right though.”

“How lucky that we heard them in the cupboard when they hid there.” Arthur smiled at the memory.

“Yes. They were impossible sometimes. What would they have done had they actually caught their own sister in the act?”

“It'd have been worse for them than for us.”

“And they liked you. Well, Gideon already was your friend.”

“Yes.” 

Molly smiled indulgently. “Your shared fascination with Muggles. And you are still so obsessed with them. The junk you clutter our house with …”

Arthur tried to look guilty. “I know, my dear, I know. But they are so fascinating. To see how they make do without magic is marvellous.”

She laughed and lifted her head to kiss him.

 

The screams from their offspring below interrupted the parents’ romantic moment.

“Let’s ignore them,” Arthur suggested.

They did for a while, until the din became too obnoxious to be ignored. They released each other.

 

As Molly stepped out of the bedroom, the door to Percy’s room opened.

“Mum, I really can’t …”

He looked at his mother’s face and took a step backwards. “Sorry,” he mumbled and closed the door. Molly turned to her husband.

“Do I look that terrible?”

“I will take care of whatever the children have done,” Arthur declared. Molly nodded and hurried into the bathroom to restore herself.

 

She idly wondered where Bill was. Ever since the boy had the permission to apparate, he was forever visiting friends. Her headboy. Bill would help her finish the baking, she knew. And Charlie would too. Her two oldest had always been a handful, like their younger brother. She remembered Charlie’s disappointment when he didn't get a dangerous animal for Christmas. Every year. But she could always depend on them now that they were a bit older.

 

Molly straightened her shoulders. Her brothers were dead. As were her parents. But Arthur didn’t hide in the bathroom every Christmas to mourn his brother Bilius. She owed it to her children to make their Christmas happy and memorable. They weren’t as enthusiastic about baking cookies as her brothers and she had been. It wasn’t their fault. They were just different.

 

She was brought back in the present, when she entered her kitchen again. It was as messy and dirty as it was when she had left it. Arthur was playing games with the children in the living room.

“FRED! GEORGE! You both come here. RIGHT NOW!”


End file.
